


Speechless

by Ceres00



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Drama, F/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, OR IS IT, One Night Stands, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25981075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceres00/pseuds/Ceres00
Summary: It's odd. Hermione always seems to be at a loss of words around him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 134





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short story I wrote a little while ago. It's an experiment in first person. No Beta.

Halloween Party at the Ministry, October 31st, 2000 

“What the fuck is he looking at?” Ron growled. 

I had been engrossed in a conversation with Harry over the latest raid on the Parkinson Manor when his voice startled me. “Who?” I asked, confused and found my eyes drifting over to where he was glaring at hatefully.

“Malfoy!” Ron frowned.

Malfoy was standing near the drinks corner, talking to a man from the Department of Intoxicating Substances, engaging in what I was sure, an attempt to grease some wheels. I had heard he was setting up an Apothecary in Diagon Alley, and that meant strict controls and supervision by the DMLE. Of course, he wouldn’t have had that problem had he chosen to set up shop at Knockturn Alley, but I suppose this was a way to turn over a new leaf. The ministry official however, was clearly more interested in the pie he was stuffing himself with and only seemed to be half listening.

“Umm, the guy he’s talking to?” I answered incredulously before getting back into Harry’s story. 

“He was staring at you.” Ron grumbled again, taking a swig of his Firewhiskey. I looked at him again, exasperated. Sometimes, his paranoia and insecurities regarding our relationship were far from endearing. I looked over at Malfoy again, who still seemed to be as engrossed in the conversation as ever. I shook my head and turned to resume listening to Harry’s conversation when Ron spoke up again.

“He does it at every stupid Ministry gathering. He thinks he’s being subtle, but I see him. I thought it was Harry he was looking at, at first. But it’s not.”

Harry, who had been recounting his story to his colleague and friend Will, tuned into our conversation. “Sorry? What about me?”

“Nothing, mate.” Ron answered, ears turning red. He obviously understood how petty it would seem if he voiced his concerns to anyone else. I was just glad to hear him shut up about it.

Later that evening, I had wandered over to the bar to get myself another glass of Chardonnay when I bumped into him. Malfoy.

“Granger,” He nodded at me, while grabbing a tumbler of Ogden's finest, that the Barman swiped in his direction. I was so surprised that he deigned to acknowledge me that I couldn’t muster a coherent response, and my lips fell slightly open.

He chuckled while sipping his drink casually, and I shook myself out of my stupor, hoping it hadn’t been too late to salvage some dignity. 

“Not your favourite endearment for me, so forgive me if I didn’t respond in time.” I retorted and the smile slipped off his face. He looked chastised. I saw his adam’s apple move as he turned to look at me with such a sombre look that I instantly regretted my snark. It had been a couple of years since the war, the least I could do was give someone who was trying to be civil, a break.

I looked down at my drink, unable to hold his gaze. Maybe I had one too many.

“For what it’s worth, which I’m sure, is very little. I am sorry for every bit of it. Incredibly so.” He gulped the rest of his drink down in one go and slammed the tumbler on the table. Shocked at his apology and humility, I was rendered speechless once again. He tipped the barman a few sickles, and left in a hurry, before I could respond.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The encounter with Malfoy threw up a memory of my Eighth Year at Hogwarts. He had returned to take his NEWTS again as well. We had steadfastly ignored each other that year, except for that one time in the library, when I saw him sitting where I usually sat. He had seen me and made himself scarce. Back then, I had barely paid attention to the implications of what he did, but now I recognised it as a conscious effort on his part to not antagonise me. And then he greeted me civilly at the party and I responded petulantly, for having been caught off guard. My lack of magnanimity plagued me. Or maybe it was the alcohol. 

***

The next party I saw him at was the Christmas Party. This time, I made it a point to go up to him and rectify my past behaviour. 

“Malfoy.” I said, when I cornered him near the desserts counter. He looked up, eyes widening in surprise when he saw who it was. My greeting had caught quite a few looks of surprise from the others at the party as well. I ignored the stares and smiled at him. I relished his reaction, for he seemed just as perturbed as I was the first time. His eyes wandered over my face, before resting on my eyes and he murmured softly, ”Granger.”

And that was all we said, whenever we ran into each other, at one ministry do or another, which was quite often. It was a strange sort of equilibrium or truce. But I liked the amiability of it all. Ron was annoyed when he realised what was going on…which was frankly nothing. But he did acknowledge the general need to move on from the past. He seemed mollified when he realised that it was nothing more than a cursory greeting, but I could see that it grated on his nerves for some reason. Soon, Harry caught on as well, and I suppose so did the rest of the ministry officials. There was a perceptible change in the air around Malfoy now. Whereas before, people treated him more like a nuisance to be dealt with, now he seemed to be treated more like the business man he claimed to be. 

Life went on, I got a promotion, Ron proposed. I was happy. After years of battling the dark forces and prejudice, it all seemed too good to be true. And it was. I got up one morning on what otherwise had been a bright summer day, to see Ron’s face plastered across the society pages of the Daily Prophet, kissing some blonde, headlines screaming ‘TROUBLE IN PARADISE? WEASLEY SPOTTED GETTING COSY WITH LEGGY SOCIALITE'

My first reaction surprised even me, because all I could think was that the headlines could not be more unoriginal. I suppose I must have disassociated because I felt quite literally, nothing. I then proceeded to read the entire article quite dispassionately and once done, used the pages to soak up the water I had spilled earlier in the kitchen- the reason why I had even bothered to open the society pages in the first place.

He had been caught quite red-handed. The photos were incriminating. I realised what a fool I had been. All those nights I couldn’t get a hold of him now made sense. He claimed he had been working late, but he wasn’t. All those times I thought he smelled a little off, but shrugged it off. All those times he whined when I was too tired from work to have sex with him. Was it my fault? I stopped that train of thought. If he was unhappy, there were dignified ways of voicing those concerns to her. 

I then proceeded to shut my floo off to any calls and visits and drew myself a hot bath. I could not go to the office today and sent an owl notifying them of my “sick” leave. It wasn’t that I was ashamed. No, it was because I wanted to spare myself the unnecessary attention. And I was sure there would be unrelenting attention, for the Wizarding World still seemed enthralled by its War Heroes. I slipped into the hot water later with my favourite book. It wasn’t long before the tears came. And then the feelings. The rage, the betrayal, and finally... the despair.

***

He had begged to be taken back. He had gotten down on one knee again, swearing at first, that none of it was true and that he was going to sue. But then one woman after another cropped up in the papers, their testimonies were numerous and quite infallible. Ron changed his tune soon after, and swore that I was the only one who truly mattered, for he loved me.

I had quite enough of his lies by this time, and hexed him. He had boils on his privates for weeks. He didn’t try again, for he knew he got off easy. Harry was sorry it ever happened, he hovered, worriedly for a few days but left me alone when I threatened him with the same fate. 

The public can be counted on for its short memory. A few months later, there had been another scandal involving some Wimborne Wasps beater, and our failure of a relationship stopped getting mentioned. Things had been a little awkward around the Weasleys’, with Molly insisting I still grace the family lunches and visit on special days, when all I wanted was to throw myself into work and move on with life. A task which would be made difficult if I ended up incarcerated in Azkaban for murder. I was still massively irritated at Ron, nearly a year later. Not just for his lies, but also because he had moved on with Lavender Brown of all people, again. So I stayed away from Ministry gatherings and other parties to avoid the awkwardness. He stayed away from me on occasions we were forced to face each other (at work for instance), but unfortunately that meant I also felt distanced from Harry, Ginny and the others. Ultimately, no one wanted to pick sides and he was their family. 

It was at the Halloween Party next year that I decided to end my sabbatical from the public eye. I made sure to dress up for the occasion, choosing a risqué black dress that fit snugly at the top, showed off my cleavage without seeming vulgar. Its chiffon skirt fell just past my thighs, showing off my soft curves. I looked good, I knew. I was sick of the lonely and heartbroken image that everyone seemed to have after the Prophet incident. I wanted to ensure that people knew I was a woman in control. 

The party was in full swing, but at my entrance, there was a hush before whispers and murmurs spread fervently. I walked up to a few people I knew, and tried to strike up a conversation. Though it was awkward initially, I soon found my footing and the ease of my demeanour silenced the vicious whispers. Terry Boot came up to me and offered me a drink. We spoke for a while and I let my hair down a little. Then Ron entered the party. He had that cow Lavender with him, but he stuck to the opposite corners of the room. It’s not that I wanted him back. No, far from it. I believed he had got off really easy. A few boils that were remedied easily by the people at St. Mungo’s hardly counted as retribution. Post our break-up, he had Harry and his family while I had felt slighted and alone. I know Molly repeatedly asked that I visit and claimed I’d always be family, but ultimately I couldn’t put myself through the constant reminder of his wrongs. I had been sipping steadily at my drink, trying to ignore the commiserating looks I got. My mood had worsened considerably after my contemplation. I went to the Bar to get a refill and had nearly convinced myself to leave early when I heard him.

“Granger.” 

I spun around at the familiar voice and came face to face with Malfoy. I must have been quite a few drinks down, because I said something that sounded foreign on my tongue. “Draco,” slipped from my lips before I could take it back. His eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. I was taken aback by how handsome he looked. It was an odd epiphany. Years of hatred and bigotry had ensured I looked at him from a prism of prejudice as well. He looked fit. My vocabulary left much to be desired, but in my defense, I was on my way to being thoroughly pissed. He wore dark charcoal grey robes that were tailored to fit his well toned body perfectly. His fair-coloured hair fell into his eyes with an easy grace that reminded me of a younger Sirius. My wandering eyes went back up to look into his silver-grey eyes, crinkled in amusement. I felt the flush rise to my cheeks and to my mortification, arousal flood my knickers. It wasn’t like I was a prude, no. Ron and I may not have had sex too often, but I had a healthy libido. However, this was the first time I had such a physical reaction to a visual stimulus. I was half convinced I had been administered a lust-potion unknowingly, but I realised I still had complete control of my faculties, and the choice to jump him or not was in my hands.

“Glad to know we’re on a first name basis, Hermione.” He raised an eyebrow with the remark. 

It should be a sin to sound so good. My name sounded like a spell from those lips. I clearly had a case of tunnel vision, for somehow the rest of the party had slipped away. I made a split second decision that I begged the universe to not lead to my untimely demise. I kept my half empty chalice down and closed in, my lips grazing his ears

“Do you want to get out of here, Draco?” I said, surprised at the husky voice that came out of my throat. Who knew I had it in me?

The smile slipped from his face and his eyes widened in shock. He looked down at me, and I noticed how long his eyelashes were. They didn’t belong on a man, I thought to myself jealousy. His lack of response though, had me second guessing myself. Just when I took a step back to keep my distance, he brought a large and warm hand to the small of my back, restricting the movement.

“Yes, I’d like that…” He whispered. I looked up at him and saw his pupils had widened, eclipsing nearly all the colour from his eyes. I grabbed the hand that held me and brought it to the front of his chest. He looked unsure then, expecting a retraction of my offer, but then I threaded my fingers through his and led him away from the party. I could see we were garnering a lot of stares again, but I ignored them, sped up and headed straight for the Floo. 

***

We never made it to the bedroom, at least not initially. He had me pinned against the closest wall as soon as we landed up at my place. His hands were everywhere at once, warm and sure. His lips drank mine like they were an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. He unzipped my dress and it fell unceremoniously to the ground, leaving me in just my thin lacy knickers. He got down on his knees and tore the scrap of cloth away, ignoring my indignant gasp. The moment his tongue swiped at my clit, my hips bucked. I had never been so sensitive and wet before. He grabbed my hips and pinned me to the wall before proceeding to eat me out thoroughly. I must have come thrice in a span of a few minutes. I couldn’t control my moans, breathy gasps and screams, or the hands that were clutching desperately at his hair. When he finally got up and unzipped his trousers, I realised he had left me so muddled that I forgot that was my job. He leant in again and claimed my lips for another kiss while he palmed and kneaded my arse. He picked me up, his hands still on my arse, separating my cheeks and I wrapped my legs around him to anchor myself. I gasped when I felt the head of his cock probing for my entrance. He looked at me then, and all I could do was stare into the depths of his eyes as he slowly thrust into me, wrenching an animalistic sound deep from within me. It felt so full, so right. He set an unforgiving pace, thrusting balls deep and withdrawing almost completely. Every time he thrust back in, he swerved his hips to angle deep and I couldn’t help the jumbled screams and gasps that I let out. It took me a few minutes to realise what I was saying. 

THRUST-God! - THRUST-Oh!- THRUST- AH! Fuuuuck!

It seemed I had finally found religion.

I came, again and again. He had me on every surface in my living room. And then we finally moved to the bedroom. The rest of the night was spent in a haze induced by alcohol and endorphins. His name fell from my lips like a prayer, as waves of orgasm crashed over me. Is this what I had been missing all this time? We finally fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and sweat. I had no energy to ask why he wasn’t leaving, for I expected this to be some kind of a one night stand. You don’t sleep over on such occasions, do you? And that was my last coherent thought.

***

I got up the next day because of the bright sunlight that was pouring into my room. I felt boneless and warm and I smiled at the thought. That was before I realised there was a heaviness near my stomach. I looked down to see long fingers resting on my navel. The pale hair on the arm attached to it were glowing in the sunlight. I tilted my head to get a better look behind me and I saw Malfoy’s face sleeping peacefully. That’s when last night came crashing back. I flushed when I remembered how he’d thrown me on my bed before having his way with me. I shifted my legs a little in an effort to get up from the bed and head to the loo, but the stinging soreness between my legs made me gasp involuntarily. My heart hammered at the unfamiliar sensation, and the feeling of satiation was slowly replaced by another sentiment- annoyance at his gall that he thought he could have me so thoroughly. I tried moving with my hips to put less pressure on my sore bits and Malfoy’s heavy hand finally moved from where it had me anchored. I had barely felt relief when I realised he’d just moved it to cup my angry sex, and before I knew it, he’d tried to finger it.  
“Ouch!” I complained and shoved his hand away in anger before turning to glare at him. He had an eye open and was smirking at me. Hair still dishevelled from sleep, he still managed to look unfairly attractive.

“Sore, Granger?” He said, smugly.

I narrowed my eyes at him and decided not to indulge his ego. I got off the bed and made to walk to the bathroom with all the poise one could muster, while also limping. I banged the bathroom door shut to keep out his chuckles, and turned on the shower.

The warm water served as an immediate balm to the soreness- which I realised, was all over my body. I tried to wrack my brain for a reason why muscles that should not be aching were doing so, but came up short. I stayed under the shower for a good fifteen minutes before reaching for the shower gel. Just when I was done applying it, the bathroom door swung open and Malfoy walked in like he owned the damn place.

“Get out, Malfoy! Wait for your turn!” I shouted at him, outraged. I couldn’t give him my trademark death glare ‘cause of the water that was streaming down my hair and into my eyes. I felt like my words just didn’t have the same effect without it because he proceeded to crowd me in the shower stall. I had it on good authority that when combined, the glare and the sharp tone were enough to make knees quiver in fear.

Before I knew it, his arm was reaching for me. Or so I thought because he made to grab the soap instead and proceeded to lather it- seductively- all over his body. He had me hypnotized with his movements. And before I could form a coherent rebuttal to his presence, he was done with his quick shower and toweling himself off- with my towel too, leaving me dripping and wet in more ways than one.

"Don’t you dare get the water on the floor!" I shouted belatedly.

When I finally dried myself up and shoved my head through the first long jumper I could find and moved to the kitchen, he was holding a mug of what smelled like coffee, rummaging my drawers wearing just the black trousers from last night. Unbuttoned.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, unkindly.

"Where’s the sugar?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"Top right, cupboard." I replied, cursing my inability to leave questions unanswered.

Once he was done with making his perfect cuppa, he turned around and looked at me while he sipped on his drink like he had nowhere else to be. His eyes lingered on my legs and I self-consciously tried to pull the jumper down further to my knees, in vain. He held my gaze then, before crossing the space in between and gently slipping a hand to the nape of my neck. He massaged the area slowly, causing my eyes to close and body to sway a little. He then proceeded to grab my hair and expose my lips to him. I gulped in anticipation. When he didn’t make a move, I frowned and opened my eyes in indignation. But just as I was about to tell him off, his lips descended on mine and he proceeded to snog the daylights out of me. The kiss was light at first, but then he deepened it as he pulled my head back further to get easier access. I’d lost track of time when he stopped, and left me feeling drugged and rooted to the spot. He gently caressed my cheek with his thumb, and I shuddered. He looked at me again, this time a little apologetically. “I have to be at work,” he whispered. My stomach dropped. Isn't this what I wanted? So why did my stomach suddenly feel like lead? I gaped at him wordlessly. If that disappointed him, he didn’t let it show. He dropped a lighter kiss on my forehead and smiled at my muteness. Like he found my witless reactions endearing. 

Summoning a shirt, he put it on and was about to button it up when he realised all his buttons were gone. He raised an eyebrow at me and I remember tearing his shirt open with my greedy fingers last night, to reach skin. Unconcerned about the buttons popping off in all directions. I felt my face flame, and summoned them wordlessly before attaching them for him. He nodded a thanks and turned to leave. I felt the words claw their way out, and I couldn’t stop them. 

“Draco!”

He turned around and looked at me questioningly. I gulped. What do I say to him? Thanks for last night? Too formal. The longer the silence stretches, the more awkward it gets. But before it does, the words spill. “I’ll see you around.”

He smiled a genuine smile then, and I notice he has a dimpled cheek and perfect teeth. I must have noticed it because my parents were dentists. But then I notice the light that makes his hair glow and I think I must also have a photographer for an ancestor because I wish to capture this moment for later. 

“Granger.” He says in lieu of goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?


End file.
